


Morning Bite

by Fire_Bear



Series: FrUK Spring Festival 2k16 [4]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: (because of vampire), Biting, Blood Drinking, Day4, Fluff and Smut, FrUK Spring Festival 2k16, Knotting, M/M, Marking, Masturbation, No Lube, Rough Sex, Scent Marking, Vampires, Werewolves, biting kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 06:50:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6843709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Bear/pseuds/Fire_Bear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur was going to enjoy some tea on the night of the full moon but his lover comes to visit and his plans go out the window...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning Bite

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to actually write them in an established relationship. Well done me.

Arthur was just sitting down to a lovely cup of Earl Grey when there was a bang at his front door. It wasn't knocking; it sounded more like something had charged at the door. With a long-suffering sigh, Arthur abandoned his tea and made his way to the front of the house. When he opened it, he looked down immediately, scowling at the wolf on his doorstep.

For a second, he wasn't sure if it was the still growing Alfred, what with the way the wolf was wagging its tail. However, it stood up, standing to its full height and, with the sight of its soft, blue eyes, Arthur was able to identify it. He sighed for the wolf's benefit.

“Francis. What are you doing here at this time of night?”

At his feet, the werewolf whined and rubbed his head against Arthur's trousers. _I missed you. I wanted to see you._ The wolf looked directly into Arthur's glowing eyes and the vampire deciphered that message, too.

_I love you._

“You are such a sap,” Arthur said, rolling his eyes, grateful that he couldn't blush.

The wolf cocked his head. _Didn't you miss me, too?_

“I was just sitting down to tea so of course not. It's lots better than having _your_ blood.” Sticking his tongue out, the werewolf panted, almost looking as though he was smirking. Arthur decided to ignore that and stood aside. “Come along, then.”

Wagging his tail, Francis entered, trotting through the hall and up the stairs. Rolling his eyes, Arthur nipped into the kitchen, grabbed his cup of tea and followed the wolf to his bedroom. That room in particular was large enough to house both a bed and a couch, the seat facing the fireplace. A shaggy, white rug lay in front of the fire with the coffee table at its side. When Arthur entered, Francis was rolling on the carpet.

“Stop that,” Arthur said, sternly. “You know the itch won't go away, love.”

Francis whined and stared up at him then looked at the window where moonlight was streaming through. Arthur took the hint and strode over to whip the curtains closed. Then he made his way to the couch and sat in his usual spot. As soon as he had, Francis leapt onto the space beside him, settling down with his head in Arthur's lap. Arthur immediately began stroking the wolf's head, sipping at his tea intermittently.

After some time like that, Francis suddenly tensed: Arthur didn't need to have the curtains open to know that the full moon was entering its highest point and the time when werewolves were their most unpredictable. He gripped the back of Francis's neck, scratching slightly without loosening his hold. A low growl started in the wolf's throat and Arthur's eyes narrowed. This was exactly the reason Francis usually left the house at night during the week of the full moon. His wolf self, however, was just as enamoured with Arthur as the human part and sometimes turned up without warning. But, when the full moon reached its peak, the wolf no longer recognised Arthur. They had a pile of broken pottery as evidence of the fights Arthur had had to have with him in order to stop him. He didn't want to do that tonight and hoped it would be a calmer one.

Another growl erupted from Francis and Arthur responded by hissing at him in warning. The growling stopped and the wolf gave a huff before shifting to get more comfortable. Arthur watched him carefully, stroking his neck to help him relax. It wasn't long before the wolf had dozed off. Arthur didn't want to wake him so he stayed where he was, even when he ran out of tea and the Thirst started to creep up on him. If Francis wasn't in his wolf form, he would have woken him and asked for some of his blood. As it was, he pushed It to the back of his mind, like he used to do before he met Francis.

Once the moon had passed its zenith, Francis woke up. Arthur immediately shoved him off his lap so he could stand and stretch. When he turned back to the couch, Francis was sitting up, his ears flattened against his head and his eyes downcast. _I'm sorry._

Sighing, Arthur rolled his eyes. “Don't be stupid. It's not your fault.”

Raising his head, Francis smiled at Arthur, his tail whacking the back of the couch. _Thank you_.

“Now, you must still be tired if your most ferocious self was able to fall asleep. So come to bed now.” Arthur made his way over, crawling onto the bed and sitting against the headboard. Francis barked happily and leapt over the couch. He bounded onto the bed and, once the mattress stopped wobbling, settled against Arthur's thigh. The vampire stroked Francis's fur, a soothing motion for both of them which would carry them through the night.

* * *

When Arthur woke a few hours later, he knew instantly that the moon had gone down. A hand was tracing patterns on the back of his hand, the fingers light. It looked like Francis was back in his human form. Since it was still the week of the full moon, Arthur knew what that meant. With a sigh, he opened his eyes to stare into Francis's blue ones.

The man grinned. “You're awake,” he said, softly. Further down the bed came a thumping noise as Francis's tail wagged, happy to get what he wanted. His second set of ears, the pair which sat atop his head like a wolf's, were tilted in Arthur's direction, waiting eagerly for him to speak.

“Yes...” Arthur glanced at where the heavy curtains would keep the light out. “I shouldn't have slept – it will be impossible to sleep today.” He made to sit up but the very naked Francis grabbed hold of his hip and rolled himself on top of Arthur, pressing him down into the mattress. Arthur sighed again, watching the werewolf with disinterest. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“You know what I want,” Francis murmured and leaned down to press a kiss to Arthur's pale, exposed collarbone.

“I can't Francis,” Arthur said. “You came before the full moon was at its height and I haven't had anything to drink. I have no energy and no blood in my body to be able to do that.”

“Oh.” Francis grimaced. “I'm sorry. Did I... hurt you again?”

He looked genuinely pained and Arthur had to hold back another sigh. Instead, he shook his head and pushed himself up on his elbow, cupping the werewolf's cheek. “You didn't hurt anyone last night,” Arthur assured him. “Don't worry.”

“I can't help it,” Francis admitted. “I don't want to hurt you any more.”

Arthur laughed at that and pulled Francis closer. “Idiot. Stop worrying.” Letting his arm curl around Francis's back, Arthur laced his fingers through the werewolf's long hair and pulled him down into a kiss. His other arm wrapped his arm around Francis's waist to keep him steady while Francis held himself up, mouthing at Arthur's lips. With his wolfish instincts, Francis licked at Arthur's mouth and the vampire obediently opened his mouth to him.

They kissed languidly, lazily, Arthur guiding the kiss. As they did, Arthur found himself engulfed in the smell of Francis. Underlying everything was the smell of wet dog, something only vampires seemed able to smell. Aside from that, there was the smell of pastries, the faint whiff of cologne, a floral smell (which Arthur hoped didn't mean he'd have to do any more night gardening) and the smell of sweat and pheromones. But another scent began to overpower him: he could smell Francis's blood, hear his heart pounding from the lust, sense his inattention to his own safety...

“Ow!” cried Francis, suddenly, pulling away. Arthur blinked and shoved away the Thirst, instantly worried. Francis was rubbing at his mouth, frowning at his lover. That probably meant that one of Arthur's fangs had pierced his lip again. Wincing, Arthur rubbed at Francis's shoulder.

“Sorry. I got lost for a moment.”

“Are you really that thirsty?” Francis asked, letting his hand drop. Arthur's eyes zeroed in on the thin trail of blood which began to run down the side of Francis's mouth. He nodded in answer to the question and gripped the sheets beneath him tightly in an effort to stop himself from lunging to feed off his partner. “You need only ask,” Francis reminded him, leaning down, his head tilted just so.

Staring at the exposed throat, Arthur held himself back, knowing that if he merely lunged, he would end up killing Francis. Thankfully, he was distracted when he felt Francis's erection rubbing against his crotch. If he had been filled with blood, he knew he would have reacted but, as it was, he glanced down and then looked back up at Francis. “Are you sure about feeding me? Don't you want to have sex?”

“Of course I do,” Francis answered. “So we'll do both at the same time.”

“Really?” asked Arthur, dubious. “You want to do that? Don't you remember what happened last time?”

“We can learn from our mistakes.”

Still dubious, Arthur eyed the werewolf. If anything, he seemed overly excited rather than fearful. Then again, he was always like that during the week of the full moon. “Fine,” said Arthur, sighing. “Come here.” He guided Francis back down into a kiss but, this time, he lapped up the blood before he pulled away. Then he trailed a hand to Francis's neck, lightly running his thumb along Francis's pulse point. Francis shuddered and willingly bared his neck.

Eyes flashing, Arthur surged forward and bit him just where his thumb had been. His fangs pierced the skin and the sweet taste of human blood washed over him followed swiftly by the sour taste of werewolf. All of it tasted uniquely like Francis, though, and Arthur began to drink deeply, his own blood beginning to flow.

Francis timed things well and, just as Arthur's dead heart began to slowly pump the blood around his body, the werewolf ground his erection down onto Arthur's crotch again. Arthur groaned against Francis's wound and gave a particularly hard suck to convey his approval. Repeating the manoeuvre, Francis began a steady rhythm as he thrust against Arthur's hardening cock.

As Arthur continued to drink, Francis let his hands roam. At first, they merely stroked Arthur's sides and collarbone, sending shivers down Arthur's spine. Then he began to remove Arthur's clothing, starting with the expensive shirt Francis had bought him a little while ago. Usually Francis would be careful with something like that but the wolf part of him was stronger tonight and Arthur was shocked to hear a ripping sound. Quickly, he lapped up the remaining blood, his saliva magically sealing the wound and sat back, staring down at his bare chest. The other part of the shirt was in the hand of the werewolf who stared down at it in shock.

“Ah! This was your best shirt!” Francis cried, obviously upset.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “You forgot your own strength again, didn't you? It's fine – I can wear one of my other ones.”

Raising his gaze, Francis took in Arthur's pale body. Arthur watched his eyes darken again, the shock of ripping a good shirt being pushed back by his animalistic urges. “You won't be putting anything on just now, chéri,” he growled. Francis lunged forward, kissing at Arthur's neck. Arthur let his head fall back, losing himself in the sensation of Francis biting him: he no longer had flashbacks to being turned into a vampire, just as Francis assured him of when they'd started this a few years ago.

His mouth roamed over Arthur's body, kissing and biting and sucking his way from his neck, along his collarbone and down the middle of his chest. Arthur loved this feeling of being worshipped, of Francis paying attention to him. It wasn't as if any of his other lovers had lasted long enough to do the same when his Thirst had won out. Unfortunately, the feeling was cut short as he began to feel empty, the annoying Thirst starting to drive his thoughts away. He hadn't drunk enough blood.

So he grabbed hold of Francis's shoulders and, using his abnormal strength, he hauled Francis back up his body. He only stopped when Francis's chest was over his head. The werewolf grinned down at him and Arthur returned it with his own toothy version. Then he bit down on Francis's nipple, his fang piercing the skin there. As he sucked, Francis shuddered and curled around him, obviously enjoying the attentions. So Arthur snaked his hand up Francis's body, starting at his knee, trailing up his thigh, ghosting over his dick and coming to a stop at his other nipple. The vampire fondled it, rolling it between thumb and forefinger, squeezing and pulling as Francis gasped and panted above him.

With Francis's moaning reverberating through his chest, Arthur could clearly hear each one as well as all those he managed to bite back. And, due to the influx of blood in his body, Arthur was reacting again, his erection straining at his trousers. Growing uncomfortable, Arthur licked up the last spots of blood and pulled away, dropping his hand and beginning to shift away from Francis. The werewolf whined and pushed Arthur's head rather violently back into his chest. Growling, Arthur pulled away again.

“Stop that,” he snapped, glaring at Francis.

“You can drink more,” Francis said, even as he panted and swayed a little. “A little more and we can continue, right?”

“I wasn't going to stop drinking,” Arthur said, though he was still a little dubious about taking any more from his lover. The comment seemed to reassure Francis even as he frowned in confusion. “I just...” Arthur trailed off and wriggled off the bed. When he stood, he immediately unbuckled his belt, frantically trying to pull his trousers off.

“Ah, I see,” said Francis with a light laugh. He let himself fall back onto his bum, legs spread, watching with hungry eyes as Arthur divested himself of the rest of his clothing.

Finally naked, Arthur kicked his clothes away. He sighed with relief and glanced down at his cock. It was standing to attention and he always marvelled at that. After so long only getting hard when he had to feed on people who made such delicious noises, he couldn't help being amazed at being in a situation where he could concentrate on it rather than the feeding and escape. Reverentially, he reached down and began to stroke himself, groaning with pleasure and throwing his head back. Deftly, he twisted his hand and drew out another moan – along with an echoing one from Francis. Remembering himself, Arthur looked up at his lover, panting slightly as he gazed at the werewolf's muscles and his hairy chest. Something about that made Arthur shudder even as he caught sight of Francis's smug smirk.

“Come to me, Arthur. It's not fair if _you_ have all the fun.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes and stepped forward. Francis raised his arms, fully expecting Arthur to fall into them. Instead, Arthur knelt at the edge of the bed and ducked his head down. Before Francis could fully register what he was doing, Arthur grabbed hold of Francis's member, stroked it a few times and then pressed his lips to the tip. Francis gasped above him and grabbed Arthur's hair which only made Arthur moan against his cock. The resulting groan from Francis made Arthur shudder with anticipation.

He began to slowly part his lips around the dick, pushing down, down, down. His tongue laved and twisted around it, tasting his precious werewolf. A musky smell invaded his senses and he wanted so much to drink from Francis that he moaned as well, the vibrations resulting in Francis tightening his grip in Arthur's hair.

“Hah,” said Francis, panting from the effort of holding back. “You really love sucking on me, don't you?”

In punishment for the frankly stupid comment, Arthur pulled back, removing himself completely. Francis whimpered in protest but shut up when his eyes met Arthur's glare. The werewolf gave Arthur a sheepish smile: Arthur was having none of it. He let his fangs become visible and ducked down. Above him, Francis grasped, tugging at Arthur's hair. However, he soon loosened his hold when Arthur grabbed hold of Francis's thigh and bit into him close enough for his cheek to brush Francis's cock.

Drinking deeply, Arthur let the overpowering smells of musk and blood wash over him. The taste seemed sweeter than usual, perhaps because Francis's blood was mostly in the area he was sucking from. All of Arthur's senses focussed on the blood, revelling in feeling it trickle down his throat. Even when he felt full, he continued sucking: this blood from his recent victim was addictive. He didn't want to stop. He _wouldn't_ stop. He'd drain them dry and-

A tugging at his hair accompanied by a muffled cry of pain had Arthur returning to himself and, quickly, he retracted his fangs, licked up the last of the blood ( _the intoxicating, beautiful, perfect blood_ ) and sat up, looking at Francis with worry. “I'm so sorry, love,” he said, panting a little from the effort. Cautiously, he lifted a hand and cupped Francis's face. The werewolf's eyes were screwed shut. He must have been in a large amount of pain. Feeling guilty, Arthur glanced down at Francis's still erect member. Maybe he could make up for it...

Without warning, Francis's eyes snapped open. Arthur, ever grateful for his excellent night vision, could see how much darker they were, how much more feral they looked. A deep hunger was in them and Arthur was a little alarmed at the sight. Had they ever had sex on the night of the full moon before? He didn't think they had. Was Francis about to lose control?

The sudden movement from Francis startled Arthur so much that he could do nothing but let the werewolf throw him face-down onto the bed. He had barely landed with a small bounce when his hips were grabbed and pulled upwards. A knee nudged his legs apart and Arthur suddenly realised that, far from going on a killing rampage, Francis was about to fuck him like an animal. Before he could protest, fingers prodded at his hole and prised him open, their movements rough abrupt. Arthur cried out in surprise: had he felt pain beyond the Thirst, he would have been in tears. As it was, he felt himself open up under the onslaught. Then the fingers were removed. Arthur tensed, unable to feel Francis lining himself up and feeling both annoyed and relieved.

Instead of being careful as he usually was, Francis silently slammed into him, burying himself up to the hilt. Arthur felt the stretch and the warm feeling of being full. Again, he cried out, clutching at the sheets beneath him. The werewolf suddenly threw himself over the back of the vampire, engulfing Arthur's smaller body. Gasping, Arthur suddenly smelled the werewolf's scent, overpowering everything. He could almost feel it clinging to his skin. And then he felt a rather strange sensation on his shoulder; it was as though a clamp had caught his skin there, unpleasantly gripping him. Unpleasant, yet the feeling went straight to his own cock, making it twitch.

“Mine,” he heard Francis growl into his ear. Francis pulled out and thrust back in so hard and fast that Arthur groaned, unable to make much sense of the series of events, his head swimming with thoughts of submitting completely to Francis and how _good_ it felt to be filled. A part of him knew that this probably wasn't a good thing but he'd be damned thrice over if he was going to stop it. “Mine,” Francis repeated and then pulled out to thrust back in at the same speed and with the same force. Over and over again he thrust in hard enough to make a human bleed; over and over again he called Arthur his.

“Yours,” Arthur whimpered as Francis pulled out, wishing he could use one of his hands to stroke his own dick. He needed something to touch it, just to relieve the pressure a little, but he was preoccupied with holding himself up and hanging on for the ride. “Yours,” he repeated louder and, for some reason, that caused Francis to slow to a stop, half in and half out. “Please,” Arthur begged, desperate now. “Please, fuck me. Touch me. Francis!”

“Merde,” Francis whispered. “Arthur... I _marked_ you!”

“I know!” Arthur snapped. “Don't stop, for God's sake! Keep fucking me or so help me-!” He was cut off as Francis pushed back in, slowly, reverently, his usual pace. It relieved some of the sense of pressure and urgency within Arthur and he sighed with happiness.

“I don't know what came over me,” Francis said as he continued, his voice sounding strained.

“Doesn't matter,” said Arthur, shortly. “Don't stop. Touch me. God, do _something_!” With the return of Francis to his normal state, Arthur couldn't take it any more. He felt thoroughly fucked and thoroughly loved at the same time and he could feel his climax coming. “ _Please_ ,” he begged again, hands tightening their grip on the bedclothes.

In answer, Francis sped up. He seemed to be trying to get back to the same rhythm and force as before but he wasn't quite getting there. However, he more than made up for it by aiming – and repeatedly hitting – Arthur's prostate. One of Francis's hands gripped Arthur around the waist as he moved while the other was suddenly on Arthur's member, stroking it out of time with the thrusts.

It was almost embarrassing how quickly Arthur came after that. He did so with a scream which echoed around the room and he tensed around Francis. The werewolf grunted, pistoned in far more quickly and deeper than before and then tensed himself. Arthur could feel the hot cum coating his insides and then the familiar feeling of Francis's knot expanding. It looked like they wouldn't be moving for a while.

They both collapsed, Francis managing to pull them onto their sides before he crushed Arthur. With Francis's arms wrapped around his waist, Arthur felt at peace, the Thirst no longer clawing at him. Then Francis kissed the mark he had made and Arthur felt lust shoot through him, alarming him enough that he tensed up again.

“Don't,” he warned, a little hoarse. “Not sure I can last another round if you can't move with me.”

“I am sorry,” Francis told him, kissing at his other shoulder. “I'm not sure what will happen to you now.”

“We'll figure that out later. For now, let's sleep.”

Francis was silent for a moment before pulling Arthur closer and kissing the vampire's cheek. “Thank you.”

“Oh, shush you,” Arthur said. He lay there for a few minutes, revelling in the feeling of being with the one he loved, until he heard the deep, even breathing of his werewolf, asleep. Smiling, he added, “Good morning, love.”


End file.
